


Beck + Call

by kelbivdevoe



Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn-ish, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-11 15:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13526742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelbivdevoe/pseuds/kelbivdevoe
Summary: You thought getting hired as Wallace Arcangelo's personal attendant was going to be easy.(AU in which the Arcangelo family massacre never happened and everything changed.)





	1. big reputation

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wondered what Nicolas and Worick would have turned out like if the Arcangelos were still alive, hence this AU.
> 
> We've got a Wallace that's put up with 30+ years of abuse, and highly resentful of pretty much everyone but Nicolas. He's a far cry from our Worick--he's never had to learn to be charming in order to survive, so he's skated by on wealth and reputation. 
> 
> Nicolas is a little more relaxed in this universe--Wallace has kept him safe and sheltered. He's not carrying around the guilt that came with killing his best friend's entire family.
> 
> Anyway, enough from me! This will hopefully be updated weekly, tags and ratings to go up with each chapter.

_“Don’t look him in the eye.”_

_“God forbid you’re ever late with his meals.”_

_“The last girl we had quit after the first day.”_

_“And make sure you’re never alone with that monster of a bodyguard!”_

Your head is spinning with the advice the other maids have given you as you hurry down the expansive hallway of the Arcangelo mansion, black skirt swishing around your knees. Michel, Wallace’s older brother and head of the family since their father’s death a few years prior, leads you through the endless corridors with the occasional glance back and reassuring smile.

It’s the first day of your new career as Wallace Arcangelo’s personal attendant, a job that apparently has the same turnover rate as people who clean up toxic waste with their bare hands.

All you know about him is that he doesn’t have the best reputation. You’ve seen him in the occasional gossip rag—always drunk but never with the same girl. He doesn’t seem to have much to do with the business side of things, but certainly enjoys the spoils.

“Wallace.” Michel doesn’t knock, opening the bedroom door and walking inside. The room is pitch black, and the lump of blankets in the center of the bed grunts as sunlight streams in through the open door. It’s only when you get close that you realize there’s someone else there, a skinny redhead that’s thoroughly naked.

“Get up. Your new attendant is here.” Michel turns to look at you apologetically as he introduces you to his brother. You smile back at him because your face doesn’t know how to process this situation and it just seems polite.

The lump of blankets shifts, sitting up and your new employer comes into view. A lot of your new employer. They pool around his waist, showing nothing but an impressive expanse of pale skin. His long blonde hair hangs in his face and he pushes it back with one hand, revealing a face that makes your heart jump in your chest.

“Never met a maid I liked,” Wallace grumbles sleepily, reaching for the half-empty glass of bourbon on his bedside table and draining it in one gulp.

“Try this time,” Michel warns, resting his hand encouragingly on your shoulder. “Good luck.”

And then he’s gone.

Wallace finally turns his gaze on you. One of his eyes is almost scarred shut—an old angry looking scar— and you quickly focus on his good one, not wanting to get yelled at for staring. He looks you up and down in a way that makes you feel distinctly naked; you finally smile once his eyes reach yours.

“It’s nice to meet you, Master Wallace.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat and climbs out of bed before shuffling towards his bathroom. You stare at the ceiling, face reddening. Why is everyone naked today?

“First job,” He waves a hand towards you. “Get rid of her.”

The bathroom door shuts with a snap and you look at the girl sprawled out on his bed. You’re certainly not dragging her out of here. You go through the options in your mind, wanting to do this first job well enough to make Wallace maybe not hate you entirely.

You dust your hands off on the front of your apron before reaching back and untying it, pulling it over your head and walking over to the door.

“Can you hold this for me?” You poke your head around the door, holding your apron out to the Asian man waiting outside. He blinks at you a few times before shrugging and taking the apron from you. You give him a smile before walking back inside, pulling your hair out of it’s loose bun and letting it fall around your face.

She still hasn’t moved.

You walk over to her side of the bed and hum thoughtfully before clearing your throat.

“Oh my god, someone’s giving out free pills in the bathroom!”

She starts awake, turning her head and staring at you for a long moment. Perfectly unsure of where she is.

And then you burst into tears.

“Who the fuck are you?!” You cry, trying to look as betrayed as you possibly can.

“What? What’s happening?” She looks so confused, grabbing the sheets to cover herself. You almost feel bad about the emotional gauntlet you’re going to run her through.

“What’s happening is you’re in my husband’s bed!”

She gapes at you, frozen in place.

“H-He didn’t say anything about being married!” She stammers, eyes getting wider by the second.

“Of course he wouldn’t!” You wail, burying your face in your hands. The Asian man from the hallway has his head poked around the doorway, watching with interest.

“Listen, I-I really didn’t know!” The panic in her eyes is getting more and more pronounced.

“I guess he didn’t tell you about the baby, either!” You clutch your stomach for dramatic effect. To her credit, the girl looks suitably horrified about the situation.

The girl leaps out of the bed, scrambling to collect her clothes from the floor. You continue sobbing until she’s dressed and bolting out of the room. Asian man watches her go before looking back at you and giving a silent thumbs up.

You wipe at your eyes with a grin as the bathroom door opens and Wallace appears in a cloud of steam, a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. Your thighs press together unconsciously at the sight and you mentally scold yourself for your body’s reaction to him.

“How’d it go?” He asks, in a tone that suggests he expected you to fail spectacularly.

 _‘Your pregnant wife scared the shit of her._ ’ The Asian man signs from the hallway, pointing at you.

Wallace looks at you with the slightest hint of a smile. Is there a compliment in your future?

“Pregnant, huh? If you want to fuck me that badly, all you have to do is ask.”

“What?!” Your face turns a betraying shade of red and he pads towards you, walking around you in a slow circle. Appraising you like you’re on sale.

“I hate this fucking uniform.” He grabs at the back of your frilled skirt and you wrench away from him. “How can I get a good look at you with all this in the way?”

“Maybe you should provide your own uniform if you’re so unhappy with this one,” You can’t help but retort with sarcasm. “ _Sir_.”

He raises his eyebrows and for one second you’re pretty sure you’re getting fired. Until he smirks.

“That’ll be all for now. Unless you want to watch me get dressed?” He reaches for the towel around his waist and you’re out the door, scowling more about the fact you’re flustered more than anything else.

xxx

He’s gone for the rest of the day. When you ask Michel about his whereabouts he shakes his head a little, like he doesn’t want to think about it, and tells you to take the the night off.

You head back to one of the small cottages behind the estate that you now call your own, pushing open the door and stepping inside. The bedroom, living room and kitchen are all one entity; most people would find it cramped, but it’s actually pretty cozy. Most importantly, it has a bathtub, and you immediately head into the bathroom, turning on the hot water and pulling off your uniform.

The hot water feels nice against your skin, and you sink down until it reaches your nose. You replay the morning’s events in your head, leaving all the nudity out. The ‘monster’ the other maids had been referring to must have been that short Asian man standing outside the door. The Twilight. Luckily, you’d been raised by pretty progressive parents who didn’t discriminate against them. He seemed nice enough, despite the world of shit he’s probably been through.

Wallace, on the other hand, you couldn’t get a read on. It seemed like you amused him more than anything else, which was a hell of a lot better than hate. Some weird part of yourself wants to prove to everyone else that you can do this, that you’re different than the rotation of women that have been in your position.

Maybe he’s not as bad as everyone says he is.

  
xxx

You’re up before your alarm the next morning. It takes a second to remember where you are. Your eyes adjust to the darkness and when you swing your feet over the side of the bed, they come down on the top of a long white box.

“What the hell…?” You lean over and peer at the box, making sure it’s not ticking before you pick it up. There’s a pair of black stilettos on top with bright red bottoms, and what looks to be a black dress underneath. You pick up the shoes and set them gingerly on the bed before pulling the dress out of the box, eyes immediately narrowing.

It’s _tight_. The sleeves are 3/4 length and the neckline goes down far lower than you’re comfortable with. It looks like the hem will reach your knees, which is the only saving grace of the entire thing. The apron that’s supposed to go with it is laughably tiny.  
There’s a note at the bottom of the box.

_You said I should provide a uniform that makes me happy. Consider it provided._

Was this what he was out all day doing? Picking out a revenge dress?

You snort and toss it onto the bed. Like hell you’re wearing that.

Stretching, you climb out of bed and walk over to the closet to retrieve your uniform. Only, when you open the door…it’s not there.


	2. all due respect

“That dick!” You hiss between your teeth, heels sinking into the soft grass as you wobble your way towards the main house. Between the dress and the shoes, you’re not sure how you’re even supposed to be capable of movement.

Everyone is staring at you push open the side door, marching down the hallway toward the kitchen to get his breakfast. As pissed as you are, you still remember what one of the maids told you about him missing meals. He’s testing you, and you don’t plan on failing.

The chef hands you the tray with a bewildered expression as he takes in your outfit. There’s no time to explain, but there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your head that Wallace isn’t going to give your old uniform back without a fight.

When you finally reach his room and open the door, you’re greeted with a loud wolf whistle from your employer, sitting at the small table near the windows and grinning from ear to ear. His bodyguard sits across from him, chewing on an apple and looking at you with a hint of appreciation.

“Much better,” Wallace smirks, taking in every inch of the curves that had been hidden by your old uniform the day before. You feel heat creeping up the back of your neck despite the powerful urge to punch him in the face you’ve been experiencing since waking up this morning.

“Where’s my real uniform?” You scowl, setting down the tray in front of him and watching as he removes the lid and picks up his fork, obviously in no hurry to answer.

“Do you know where it is?” You ask the short man sitting next to you. He looks honestly surprised you’re speaking to him before nodding.

“Where?” You ask hopefully, and he points to the garbage can as your shoulder sag in defeat.

“Nic’s the one who did the switch,” Wallace explains through a mouthful of poached egg. “Didn’t hear a thing, did you?” He sounds almost proud of him.

Nicolas signs something as you quietly mourn the loss of your uniform and your privacy. The sound of Wallace’s laugh shakes you from your thoughts.

“Nic says you drool in your sleep.”

And there’s that urge to punch again. You take a deep breath, trying to keep composed.

“With all due respect, Master Wallace…” Which is none.“I can’t do my job in this outfit.”

“You can and you will,” He snaps, wiping his face with a cloth napkin before tossing it onto the table. “Right now you’re wearing more on your feet than what you make in two weeks. Show a bit of gratitude.”

You bite down so hard on your tongue it might bleed.

“Get rid of these dishes, we’re going out.” He stands and walks over to the expansive closet, looking for a suitable outfit before tossing you a look over his shoulder. “That includes you.”

“Me?” You repeat dumbly. As far as you know, your duties were limited to the Arcangelo mansion.

“You’re my attendant, aren’t you?” He asks in a tone that suggests that you’re the biggest idiot he’s ever spoken to. “Jesus. What made Michel think you were worth hiring?”

“He liked my background in child care,” You say without even thinking, and the smile on Nicolas’ face is worth the torrent of curses that fly out of Wallace in response.

xxx

The ride to the tailor was possibly the scariest twenty minutes of your life. Wallace drives like he has a death wish—the only reason you hadn’t flown right through the windshield was that Nicolas had helpfully motioned for you to put on your seatbelt before the car had whipped into first gear and peeled out into the street.

Your shoulder aches a bit from bumping against the door with every sharp turn, but at least your feet are now fully numb. This job feels like it’s going to have to revolve around silver linings for you to get through the day.

Wallace leads the way into the expensive looking shop as you and Nicolas follow behind. The smaller man keeps glancing at you occasionally, like he’s checking to make sure you haven’t run off screaming. You catch his eye and he looks away as casually as he can, looking suddenly interested in a lighting fixture on the wall.

As Wallace chats with the man in charge, a display of brightly colored ties catches your eye, and you walk over, running your fingers over the silky material and marveling in the texture. A sharp whistle pierces the air and you look up to find your boss looking at you expectantly.

“Get in here and help me,” He orders, walking into the dressing room without waiting for you. Your stomach drops as you walk over, slowly processing what’s going on before immediately trying not to think about it.

By the time you get inside, he’s already fully undressed. You stare at the hardwood floor as you close the door behind you, trying to look anywhere but the embodiment of physical perfection standing a foot away.

Of course he notices your discomfort. You catch sight of his smirk in the mirror as he pulls on the pants.

“Come on,” He presses, and you can practically feel yourself sweating as you walk over. You swallow as you stop in front of him, zipping up his pants quickly and trying not to look at the soft trail of hair leading downward. Or the abdominal muscles so defined you can count them. The button takes a little more work, but that’s partly due to the unsteadiness of your fingers.

“The shirt too,” He reminds you, taking absolute pleasure in the state he’s got you in right now. You nod, walking over and pulling the soft white garment from the hanger. Even his back is perfect, you think with a sigh, as you hold up the shirt and he slides his arms in.

The torture only gets worse when you realize you have to button it. He never moves his gaze from you as he watches you concentrate on the buttons, your eyes occasionally flickering to the soft hair covering his chest.

“Are you attracted to me?” He asks lowly, his voice hitting an octave that makes your thighs clench.

“Aren’t most people?” You retort quickly, trying to focus on the work at hand.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at that.

“You’re not answering the question.”

He already knows the answer. So do you. Every facet of your body language is telling him all he needs to know. So you say nothing.

“Nic likes you too,” He murmurs, making your head snap up in surprise. “It’s been a long time since we agreed on someone. He’s picky about his women.”

“Why are you telling me this?” You ask, voice coming out weaker than you want it to.

“Just something to think about,” He replies nonchalantly, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket and looking at himself admiringly in the mirror. It’s frightening how fast he can change his entire demeanor, but even more frightening how he just dropped that nugget of information so casually into the conversation.

_Nic likes you too._

Just something to think about, huh. He isn’t wrong. You think about it the entire drive back to the mansion and when you attempt to sneak a peek at Nicolas in the rear view mirror he’s already looking back at you.


	3. loyalty

Michel is standing on the front steps of the mansion as the three of you pull up, looking every bit the disapproving parent with his arms folded over his chest. Wallace lets out a snort at the sight of his brother, gunning the engine loudly out of spite before turning off the car.

You climb out slowly, bowing your head respectfully at Michel as his eyes widen slightly at the sight of your new uniform. He turns his attention to Wallace immediately as the blond man comes into sight, spinning the keys around his index finger and already looking bored by the incoming lecture.

“I believe you lost your license last week,” Michel reminds him with a frown. You glance over at Nicolas, who's staring at the ground with a neutral expression, as if he’s in the presence of royalty.

“You only need a license if you get caught,” Wallace grins, although the gesture doesn’t reach his eye. It seems like they’ve been playing this game for a long time.

Michel presses his lips together.

“And if you do get caught? What then? Someone writes another article about how you’ve shamed this family for the countless time?”

“I’d have to be treated like a member of this family for that to be true,” He counters, and you shift uncomfortably from foot to foot as the tension rises. This is conversation you shouldn’t be privy to, but there’s no escape right now.

“Wallace--” Michael’s face is starting to turn red.

“Can’t you focus on the good for once?” Wallace sighs. “Look, I’m getting along with the new girl. The one you hired.”

“You must be a very patient woman.” Michel’s expression softens slightly when he turns it in your direction. “But that uniform doesn’t look like the one we provided.”

“It was a gift from Master Wallace, sir. He insisted I wear it,” You shoot him a look over your shoulder. Getting thrown under the bus on your first day isn’t on your list of things to do. Michel pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s trying to keep his head from exploding.

“Is this where I get the ‘fraternizing with the help’ speech?” Wallace asks, leaning on the car and fully aware he’s poking the bear. A bear that looks like it’s going to combust into a thousand pieces.

“She might be help, but she’s still too good for the likes of you.” Michel’s tone is ice. Now it’s your turn to stare at the ground. “If I find out you’re out in that car again I’m calling the police.”

He turns on his heel and stalks back inside without another word. You and Nicolas exchange a look, neither of you wanting to turn around. The anger is positively radiating from Wallace--you can almost feel the press of it against your skin.

“Don’t bother me for the rest of the day,” He snarls, stalking past the both of you and up the stairs to the main door. He slams it so hard the windows practically rattle, and you can’t help but wince.

“Does that happen often?” You ask Nicolas quietly.

He nods in response, moving his hands to sign something to you but frowning as he remembers you won’t be able to understand. There’s a long pause before he opens his mouth.

“WoRsE aFtEr FaThEr DiEd,” His voice comes out ragged, like something that’s gone to rust after years of disuse. Your eyes widen in delight from the sound of his voice--and the fact that he has one-- and he rubs the back of his head, embarrassed.

“Sorry, I just…” You laugh a little, half embarrassed yourself. “I didn’t know you could talk.”

“DoN’t LiKe To.” He admits, dark eyes flickering away from yours momentarily.

You gaze at him for a moment, wondering what to do with the rest of your day. Nicolas is obviously going to be in your orbit as long as you’re working here--maybe now is a good time to get to know each other.

“Do you want to come hang out for bit at my place?”

He looks sincerely baffled by the request, tilting his head to the side like an inquisitive dog. You can’t help but smile; it’s an adorable reaction for such an intimidating person.

“OkAy,” He says finally, looking like he thinks you’re going to tell him you’re joking any second now.

“Great!” You beam, feeling an unexpected rush of excitement. “Do you like to play cards?”

Xxx

Nicolas jams his peg into the final hole in the cribbage board and you groan, tossing your cards into the table.

“How are you so good at a game I just taught you?” You sigh, leaning back in your chair as Nicolas picks up the pen and starts writing in the notebook you’d given him in lieu of having to speak.

_You’re bad at counting cards._

You let out a huff and move the pegs back to the starting position as Nicolas begins shuffling the cards. He has the largest hands you’ve ever seen. They’re even more noticeable because of his short stature, making the cards in his hands look positively tiny. It’s weirdly attractive, but so is Nicolas.

“How long have you been working here?” You ask curiously, picking up your cards and making a face at the horrible hand you’ve just been dealt.

He picks up the pen and writes the number ‘13’ before turning his attention back to his hand, trying to decide which cards to put in the crib.

“13 months?”

He shakes his head.

“13 years?”

He shakes his head again, laying down two cards face down on the table before picking up the pen.

_Since I was 13._

Your eyes widen in surprise, trying to figure out how that’s even possible.

“My FaThEr WaS MiLiTaRy.” He plays his first card, looking at you expectantly.

“So you’ve been Wallace’s bodyguard since you were kids?” You play your card, trying to imagine what they both looked like as children before grinning. “He must’ve loved that.”

Nicolas snorts a little, laying down another card before writing something in the notebook.

_He hated me._

“I can relate.” You smile a little.

_But he’s done more for me than anyone else. Wallace is my master but he’s also my only friend._

He looks up at you for a moment before striking a line through the word ‘only’. You feel a warmth spread through your chest, nodding in agreement.

_He’ll come around. Until then_

“I have you,” You finish, grinning at your cards as the tops of his ears turn pink in response.

He kicks your ass at cards until it gets dark, the rest of the day passing surprisingly fast. When he stands up from the table and gathers his jacket, you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment.

“Can I ask you a favor, Nicolas?” You ask hesitantly, pushing the chairs in.

He nods, pulling on his jacket and picking up his sword from its place against the door.

“It must be a pain in the ass to have to write everything down, and I know you don’t like to talk, so...could you teach me some sign language? Please?”

He considers you with perpetually tired eyes before speaking.

“FiRsT lEsSoN.” Nicolas moves his hands in a small series of gestures that you try to duplicate. He keeps making you repeat it before nodding in approval.

“GoOd NiGhT.” He explains, signing it to you again. You happily sign it back to him before he disappears into the night air, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.


	4. closer

“He’s not up yet?”

You shift the tray of food to one hand as Nicolas shakes his head from his position next to the door. He doesn’t look worried, so you know you shouldn’t be. Still. A tiny part of you feels bad for Wallace despite the fact he brought the entire exchange with Michel on himself.

“Master Wallace?” You knock gently on the door. Silence. Time to bite the bullet.

The room is pitch black when you push the heavy door open. You almost jump at the crunch of glass beneath your feet and look down, frowning at the remnants of a bottle of scotch scattered over the carpet.

“Be careful,” You warn Nicolas as he follows you inside, looking completely nonplussed with this state of affairs. Are you supposed to get used to this?

Wallace is laying in his usual lump under the blankets, hidden from view. Making your way gingerly over the carpet, you stop next to the side of the bed before taking a deep breath and giving his shoulder a gentle shake.

“Master Wallace…” No response. “Maybe he’s dead.”

Nicolas shrugs. The blankets twitch slightly before speaking.

“You’d be so lucky,” Wallace says churlishly, voice muffled as he pulls the sheets down to reveal the most petulant face you’ve seen on a grown man.  
“No, because then I’d be out of a job.” You smile, laying the tray down on his bedside table. “Come on, you should eat something.”

He sits up, rubbing his face hard like he’s trying to will away the obvious hangover. You take the opportunity go find a broom to clean up the mess, and when you come back he’s picking slowly at the tray of food. A small victory.

“Nic says you spent the day together.” Wallace pulls the crust off his toast, looking at you with an expression that’s frankly unreadable.

“We did,” You admit, giving Nicolas a quick grin as you start sweeping up the glass. “He’s going to start teaching me sign language.”

“Is he now?” Wallace asks slowly, as Nicolas gives his friend the definition of a shit-eating grin.

“Mmhmm.” You nod, looking up at him and trying not to smile. “If that’s alright with you, sir.”

He looks appeased by the fact you asked him for permission, though you had no plans on following the order if he’d said no.

“It’s fine.”

“Thank you, Master Wallace.”

“Thank me by running a bath,” He says with a dismissive wave of his hand. You and Nicolas exchange a quick thumbs up as you walk by into the bathroom, turning on the hot water and watching as the tub fills slowly.

It’s strange listening to their conversation through the bathroom wall. It would sound like Wallace is talking to himself if it wasn’t for the occasional grunt or sound Nicolas makes as he replies back with his hands. Their relationship goes deeper than you’d expected, but you suppose that’s what happens when you spend more than half your life with someone.

You look up at the sound of footsteps and immediately avert your eyes as Wallace starts pulling off his clothes, turning off the hot water and climbing to your feet. He brushes by you with a chuckle, endlessly amused by your awkwardness with his body.

When you reach the doorway, he says your name for the first time. You stop in surprise, almost turning to look at him, but remembering the lack of clothing.

“I want to talk to you. Close the door.” He sinks into the water with a sigh and you close the door with a sigh of your own, wondering what he’s going to lay on you this time.

“Are you going to look at me?” He asks with bemusement, leaning back against the white marble and draping his arms over the sides of the tub.  
“No,” You reply a little too quickly, staring at the wall with determination.

“Fine.” He splashes some water on his face, rubbing his hands against the days old stubble covering his jaw. “No one that’s worked for my family has ever acknowledged Nicolas. Not one person in the last 21 years.”

There’s a pang in your chest as you think about how isolated Nicolas must have felt his entire life. You swallow, staying quiet as he continues to speak.

“So thank you for being the first.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, sir,” You tell him quietly, playing absently with the hem of your apron. There’s a stirring of warmth in your chest for the first time towards Wallace. Maybe you were right about him after all.

“How about thanking you for giving me a great view of your ass for this entire conversation?”

Nope.

“May I be excused now?” You ask loudly, your face the picture of irritation. You’re glad he can’t see your expression--he’d enjoy it far too much.

“As long as you walk slowly,” He grins, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to slam the door behind you.

  
Xxx

Wallace complains about there being nothing to do the entire time he spends shaving after his bath. Without access to a car, he’s essentially on house arrest, which means the three of you are going to be spending a lot of time in the mansion for the foreseeable future.

So you end up in the library.

It’s filled with an impressive amount of books, both new and old, and you immediately begin taking note of titles of interest you hope you’ll be allowed to eventually borrow.

Nicolas walks through the shelves like a man on a mission before finding the book he’s looking for. When he pulls out a familiar looking book with a colorful cover you grin. Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. He settles at the table and pulls out the scrap of paper holding his place; it looks like he’s almost at the end.

“I remember reading that when it came out,” You smile and Nicolas presses a finger to his lips as a warning to not drop any details about what you know.

“Don’t spoil him, for Christ’s sake.” Wallace pulls a leather bound book from the shelf and begins flipping through the pages. “I let one thing slip about Voldemort coming back during the Triwizard Tournament and he almost took my fucking head off.”

You can’t help but laugh at the visual, looking through spaces in the shelves at Wallace.

“What house are you in?”

His blue eye flickers up to meet yours.

“What do you think?”

You squint at him thoughtfully, tapping your fingers against your chin.

“Ravenclaw.” You make a gun with your fingers and point it at him.

Wallace raises his eyebrows, smiling.

“Impressive.” He closes the book he’s holding with a snap. “I thought you were going to put me in Slytherin.”

A few days ago, you would have.

“Nicolas is a Gryffindor.” You gesture to the smaller man, completely absorbed in the search for horcruxes.

“Obviously.” He grins, eye shining. Who would have pegged Wallace Arcangelo for a Potterhead? “You’re easy. Hufflepuff.”

“Why do you think that?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. He’s completely right, of course, but you’re not going to let him know that yet.

“Well…” Wallace begins, dragging out the word with relish as he begins making his way over to you around the shelf. “You’re hardworking, patient…clearly…” When he pauses next to you, it’s the first time you don’t pull away instinctually from him. “Kind. Beautiful.”

“‘Beautiful’ isn’t a Hufflepuff trait,” You remind him, praying your face isn’t as red as it feels.

“I saw an opening and I took it.” He smirks. The both of you jump as Nicolas slams the book down on the table with a loud growl, eyes blazing with anger.

“Dumbledore?” You ask sadly.

Nicolas jerks his head in a nod, folding his arms tightly over his chest.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” Wallace sighs sympathetically, walking over and clapping his friend on the shoulder. “It’ll all make sense in the next book.”

You hope that Nicolas isn’t as attached to Fred Weasley.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your amazing comments. <3


	5. caught up

Michel summons you to his study later that evening. Your stomach is in knots the entire way there, unsure if you’d done or said something wrong. He mentioned your uniform this morning--maybe it’s a firing offense.

He smiles when you walk inside and it makes you relax slightly. But just slightly.

“Have a seat,” He gestures to the plush chairs in front of his desk and you sink into one slowly, tugging the hem of your dress further over your knees. There’s a family portrait hanging over the fireplace that must be at least twenty years old. You’re unable to stop the smile that pulls at your mouth at your first glimpse of a young Wallace, perhaps the prettiest boy you’ve ever laid eyes on. Seeing him with two eyes feels strange. You wonder when it happened.

“That feels like so long ago,” Michel smiles a little as he gazes at the picture. He looks the same as he did as a child, freckled and kind looking. The resemblance to his father is obvious, but there’s one difference: Domenico Arcangelo is imposing, even in a picture.

“You look a lot like your father,” You comment, eyes sliding back to Wallace no matter how many times you try to focus on the other faces. There’s something undeniably sad about him. He looks like a piece from a different puzzle that’s been forced to fit.

“As much as Wallace looks like his mother,” He replies, watching as you frown a little, trying to recognize the resemblance between Wallace and the woman in the picture. They look nothing alike.

Your expression must give away how confused you are.

“My father...wasn’t a good man,” Michel begins slowly, obviously not fully comfortable with the words coming out of his mouth. “It took me a long time to be able to admit that. He drank often and spent time at brothels. That’s where he met Wallace’s mother.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Wallace’s comment to Michel about never being treated like part of the family suddenly makes complete sense.

“I think that’s why Father hated him. Wallace reminded him of the mistake he made every time he looked at him.” He presses his knuckles against his mouth before speaking again. “He abused him...probably until the day he died. I wasn’t aware of it at first. Not until I got older. They kept him separated from the rest of the family, so I never got to know Wallace. I still barely know him.”  
You swallow thickly, feeling sick. Your eyes flicker back to the picture of Wallace on the wall.

“His eye,” You begin weakly. “Was it--”

“I think he was...14 when it happened. Father told everyone it was an accident.” Michel smiles humorlessly. “Wallace said nothing.”

You look down quickly as you feel tears prickling at your eyes.

“I’m not trying to excuse his behaviour. I’m not asking you to treat him differently. But you’re the first person since Nicolas I’ve seen him respond to, and I think it’s important for you to know about his past...if you want to continue working here, of course.”

“Of course I do!” You blurt, probably a little louder than necessary.

Michel smiles, relieved.

xxx

Your eyes are still red as you walk back to your cottage, turning the conversation with Michel over and over in your mind. A lot about Wallace suddenly makes sense; his anger, his acting out, the bond he and Nicolas have. Two profoundly lonely men.

A shower helps clear your head, and you pull on your warmest pajamas before heading into the kitchen to make tea, hoping it’ll help you sleep. You almost drop the mug in your hand when there’s a knock at the door; you decide to keep it in your hand as a weapon, just in case.

You almost drop it again when you open the door to reveal Wallace, standing there with a book in his hand and looking almost sheepish.

“We thought you should have this.” He holds out the book to you and you read the cover. Sign Language.

“Thank you,” You breathe, taking it from him gently. He ducks his head a little, smiling.

“Sorry for bringing it over so late. I should let you get some sleep.”

Your eyes widen slightly as he reaches out, taking your hand in one of his. He brushes his thumb over the back of your knuckles before squeezing gently.

“Goodnight.” He pulls his hand back slowly and it feels like the two of you are actually looking at each other for the first time.

“Goodnight,” You reply with a smile, unable to ignore the swelling in your chest.

Wallace shoves his hands in his pockets and gives you one last look before turning and walking back across the well-manicured lawn. Nicolas jumps down from a tree a few yards away and gives you a wave before following his friend into the dark.

  
Xxx

“Like this?” You ask, moving your hands in what you hope was the way Nicolas just showed you.

He shakes his head a little, reaching out and adjusting the position of your fingers before holding your hands gently and moving them in the correct way. His hands are burning hot and rough with callouses; it’s hard to ignore the skip of your heartbeat when he touches you.

“FaMiLy,” He tells you, moving your hands in the same motion as his dark eyes meet yours.

You try it again on your own and he gives you the small smile you’ve come to crave, the one you’ve never seen him give anyone else. Ducking your head with a smile of your own, you turn the page to the next sign, squinting at the picture before attempting to replicate it.

“You’re getting better, believe it or not,” Wallace says with a lazy smile, looking up from the book in his lap. “It’s only been three weeks.”

He seems to enjoy watching Nicolas teach you, interjecting occasionally with something he thinks might help. They seem to do everything together, and this is no exception.

The door to the library creaks open and the three of you look over at the same time. You and Nicolas hurry to your feet once you realize it’s Michel, bowing your heads respectfully. He waves a hand absently, as if to dismiss the formality.

“Will you be making an appearance at Chloe’s birthday party?” He asks Wallace, sounding less irritated with him than usual. The tension in the room doesn’t seem to be as strong as it used to be.

“I’ll be there. Chloe mentioned it a few days ago.” Wallace nods, crossing one leg over the other. Chloe is Michel’s wife, a warm woman a few years older than you. They’ve been planning her birthday party for the last few weeks and the level of activity in the mansion has been at a fever pitch. A far cry from your last birthday, which involved getting drunk at a bar with your friends and waking up the next day on the bathroom floor.

Michel looks momentarily surprised that Wallace and Chloe had a conversation he wasn’t privy to.

“She said Nicolas can come. It’s that okay with you?”

“Of course.” Michel rubs the back of his head, not sure what to do with himself. This is probably the best conversation they’ve had in years. “And a date, if you like.”

Wallace immediately turns to you.

“Will you do us the honor?”

“Wh--”

“Perfect.” Wallace grins, exchanging a pleased look with Nicolas as you stand there gaping like a fish. Michel looks almost amused, saying his goodbyes before leaving the three of you alone once again.

“I don’t--” You splutter, sinking back down into your chair. “I’ve never been to something like this!”

“A party?” Wallace questions, raising an eyebrow.

“A _fancy_ party,” You clarify, nervous just from the thought of it.

“It’s just a bunch of rich people drinking expensive champagne and talking about themselves,” He waves a hand with a roll of his eye. “Besides, we’re going to be with you the entire night.”

The thought is genuinely comforting, surprisingly enough. There’s still a bigger problem.

“I don’t have anything to wear. Anything nice,” You tell him, a little quieter than before.

“Don’t worry,” is all Wallace tells you, with Nicolas repeating the sentiment in sign language. You repeat the gesture with your hands, wishing that you weren’t going to worry about it. But you still do.


	6. attention

There’s a cup of coffee on your nightstand when you wake up the next day, still steaming.

You squint at it for a moment before sitting up, wiping the sleep out of your eyes and wondering if maybe there’s a Keurig obsessed ghost living in your house. But there’s a more logical explanation for this. Who else do you know that’s snuck into your house undetected?

“Nicolas?” You call, sliding out of bed and blinking as your feet connect with a stack of boxes on the floor. It’s hard not to laugh at the wave of deja vu that hits you in this moment, and how different you feel about this surprise compared to a few months ago.

You collect the boxes carefully and lay them out on your bed, almost feeling like it’s Christmas morning. The shoe box seems like the logical choice to start with, and you gingerly pull out the red bottomed shoes, covered in delicate mermaid sequins and looking almost golden in the light. There’s a note at the bottom of the box covered in Wallace’s loopy handwriting.

_We told you not to worry._

You smile and lay them down gently on the blankets and move on to the next and largest box, your breath catching in your throat as you see the dress inside. It’s composed of layers of soft blue tulle, pink and lavender flowers embroidered around the waistline and climbing up the front of the gown. You pull it out of the box like it’s made of glass, watching it fall in wonder, more flowers embroidered around each falling layer of the skirt. It’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

You dig a hanger out from your closet and hang up the dress immediately, looking it at admiringly for another moment before turning back to your bed. There’s one box left, a little smaller than the others. You pull the lid off slowly, instantly recognizing the dress inside. It’s your old uniform. Your eyes fall to the note pinned to the front, reading the two words Wallace left scrawled on the paper.

_I’m sorry._

xxx

Your trip downtown to look for a birthday gift for Chloe had taken longer than expected, especially when you’d come across a lingerie store on your shopping mission. You’d agonized outside for at least 10 minutes, thinking of Wallace and Nicolas and exactly what it would happen if you decide to take this (admittedly terrifying) step. As usual, your heart won out over your head, and now the soft, blush colored corset is wrapped tightly around you, hidden by your dress and giving the night a whole new level of anxiety.

Your heart jumps into your throat when you hear the knock at the door, taking a deep breath and checking your hair and makeup in the mirror one last time before hurrying to let Nicolas and Wallace in.

The air seems to rush out of everyone’s lungs as the three of you see each other. Nicolas is dressed in a dark gray three piece suit, forgoing the tie and leaving his white shirt unbuttoned enough to show part of his well-muscled chest, visible scars criss-crossing over his tanned skin. His dark hair is artfully tousled (obviously the work of Wallace) and hanging slightly over one eye.

Wallace’s suit is a deep plum, his black shirt unbuttoned to it’s usual obscene degree, and showing off more of him than you were prepared for. His hair is parted to the side, bangs falling over one side of his face with half of it pulled back, the other half falling around his shoulders. He hasn’t bothered to shave, but still looks impossibly put together.

“Hi,” You breathe, the word coming out with a smile and what little breath you have left in your body.

“Jesus, you look incredible.” Wallace finds his tongue first, his words sending a rush of heat to your cheeks as he grins, his eye shining with appreciation.

Nicolas nods in agreement, dark eyes still a little wide.

“So do you--both of you!” You return the compliment quickly, wanting to laugh about the fact the three of you are acting like a bunch of teenagers on a first date. “Thank you for everything.”

“It’s my pleasure, believe me,” Wallace murmurs in a tone that sends another flush of color to your face.

Nicolas steps forward, offering you an arm with a small smile. He looks a little shy, like he hasn’t done this before, and you take it with a smile of your own. You give him the sign for ‘handsome’ and the tops of his ears go a betraying red.

Wallace offers an arm of his own and you grab Chloe’s present from the table before hooking your arm in his, feeling oddly at peace between the two men. Somehow it feels like you’ve been meant to fit between them this whole time.

“Ready?”

Xxx

What you weren’t ready for was the looks that get thrown your way as soon as the three of you enter the ballroom. Almost every person there looks at Wallace with disdain, Nicolas with disgust and you with a mixture of curiosity and pity. You tighten your grip on them defensively and Wallace chuckles, reaching up and squeezing your hand.

“I’m used to it, it’s fine. You alright over there, Nic?”

You almost forgot it’s Nicolas’ first time at one of these too. You glance over at him and his bored expression says it all--he’s so used to these kind of looks that it doesn’t even register to him anymore. He yawns and Wallace grins in response.

“We should say hello to Chloe first. Just put her present over there.” He gestures at a table filled with boxes that make yours look absolutely miniscule. You sigh and carry it over, trying to blend it in with the rest of the gifts before taking your place between your dates and heading over to where Chloe is greeting guests.

Even though she’s speaking to someone else, she brightens when she sees the three of you walking over, waving before dismissing herself and hurrying over with her skirts in hand. She’s the kind of woman who generates warmth naturally; you’ve only met her a handful of times but she’s always made you feel at ease.

“I’m so glad you made it!” She smiles at all three of you, pulling Wallace into a hug as he kisses her cheek. Chloe knows as much as Wallace does what it’s like being the outsider in a family, and it seems like she judges him less for it. “Did you dress up just for me? You know I like purple.”

“Told you you married the wrong brother,” Wallace teases, making Chloe laugh as she swats as his arm.

“Wallace! Stop it. Michel hates that joke.”

“That’s why I keep telling it.”

She turns her attention to you, pulling you into a warm hug that you return gratefully.

“Happy birthday!” You smile as she takes your hands in hers and squeezes lightly.

“Thank you, honey. You look beautiful!” Even Chloe is making you blush tonight. She looks at Nicolas with a smile and he already looks pre-tensed at the prospect of a hug.

“You look very handsome, Nicolas,” She says gently, making you and Wallace grin as his ears flush bright red for the second time.

“Where’s Michel?” Wallace asks, looking at you with amusement as you relink your arm with his like you’re attaching yourself to a security blanket.

“Just doing the rounds,” Chloe answers, giving Nicolas a wink before looking at her brother-in-law. “You know your brother, always the consummate host. I should go find him before he starts talking business. I’ll see you three later!”

She disappears in a swish of blonde hair and skirts as Wallace elbows Nicolas in the side.

“Stop checking out my sister-in-law.”

Nicolas growls and punches his arm in response. Wallace just laughs.

 _‘Where’s the food?’_ He signs, making you perk up. In the rush of the day you’d barely remembered to eat, and now your stomach is practically chewing on itself.

“Follow me.”

You attach yourself to Nicolas and the three of you wind your way through the party. It’s getting easier to ignore people’s stares--you just wish they wouldn’t be so blatant about it. Aren’t rich people supposed to be polite?

Wallace snags a flute of champagne from a passing tray and hands it to you, grabbing one more for himself before arriving at the expanse of tables filled with every kind of food you can imagine. Nicolas wastes no time, grabbing the biggest plate he can from the stacks laid out and filling it with as much meat as he can get his hands on.

You immediately zone in on something cheese covered and delicious, picking up the pastry and trying to put it into your mouth with as much class as possible. Nicolas looks over at you with a mouthful of ham and the two of you exchange a look that suggests heaven is probably exactly like what’s in your mouths.

“Wallace!”

A tall man with sandy brown hair crosses the room excitedly, making a beeline towards your boss with an excited expression that isn’t exactly being reciprocated. Nicolas rolls his eyes and turns back to the food as you do your best to look like you’re not eavesdropping.

“Hey, Vaughn.” Wallace smiles a little tightly as he and Vaughn do the complicated handshake/shoulder bump combination that men always seem to attempt.

“Where the fuck have you been, man? It’s been what, a month, since I’ve seen you?” The champagne in his drink swishes around as he talks. Your first impression is that Vaughn is incredibly handsome and also incredibly obnoxious.

Wallace shrugs, glancing over at you.

“I’ve been busy,” He answers noncommittally, taking a long swig of champagne and looking like he wishes Vaughn would take the hint and leave.

“Busy, huh?” Vaughn grins slyly. “Heard you got a new babysitter. She got anything to do with that?”

You hide your smile in your champagne glass as Wallace chokes a little on his drink.

“Come on, you never had trouble kissing and telling before. Speaking of which, that slut from the Giordano party was asking about you…” Vaughn smirks, wiping his nose absently with the back of his hand.

“We should probably go find my brother,” Wallace says loudly, reaching back and grabbing your hand.

Vaughn looks at you with sudden interest, in a way that makes you distinctly uncomfortable. Wallace doesn’t miss it, narrowing his eye slightly.

“And who are you?”

“My babysitter,” Wallace almost snaps, motioning for Nicolas to follow you as he leads you across the marble floor, trying to get as much distance between you and Vaughn as he possibly can.

“Who was that?” You ask as he leads you to an empty table, sitting down hard and looking agitated.

“An asshole I used to run in the same circles with,” He explains, folding his arms over his broad chest. “He’s a lot harder to tolerate when you’re sober.”

You nod a little, finishing off your drink. He doesn’t need to explain what kind of circles he ran in--you’re well aware--but it sounds like he’s given them up, at least for now.

 _‘Of all the shitty people you’ve spent time with, he’s the shittiest.’_ Nicolas signs, going back to his meal. You pull a piece of steak off the plate and pop it into your mouth, chewing slowly.

“Do you miss it?” You ask, wiping your fingers absently on the napkin. “Running in those circles? I know _you_ don’t.” You grin at Nicolas, who sticks out his tongue.

“I don’t miss waking up with a hangover next to a stranger, no.” Wallace rubs the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t miss not being able remember what I did most nights. And I don’t miss not caring if I woke up the next day.”

You and Nicolas gaze at him quietly, and he lets out a chuckle.

“This is the first time in my life I’ve actually looked forward to waking up.”

“Wallace…” You begin softly, until you hear Chloe’s voice cut through the crowd, calling for him at the same time.

“I’ll be right back,” He promises, climbing to his feet. “Good time to get a refill on dinner, Nic.”

Nicolas doesn’t need an invitation for more food, climbing to his feet and letting his hand drop and linger affectionately on top of your head for a moment before heading back to the food table for round two.

You watch them go with a smile, resting your chin against your palm.

“This seat taken?”

The sound of Vaughn’s voice from behind you makes you jump, and you feel your body instantly tense in his presence.

“They’re coming back soon,” You begin, making it sound more like a warning than you intended to.

“I just wanna talk,” He sinks into Nicolas’ chair, already uncomfortably close to you. “Since Wallace isn’t very interested in sharing the dirty details. You must know some pretty impressive tricks to get him to give up everything like that.”

You press your lips together, biting back your words. You’re here as a guest, it’s Chloe’s birthday, and there’s too much to lose from you verbally ripping the head off of a family friend.

“But then I saw you with that Tag he insists on taking with him everywhere. Are you fucking him too? Your standards that low you’d let that animal get in your pants?”

You clench your fist hard, nails biting into your palm so hard it feels like it might bleed. Vaughn smirks a little at your lack of reaction, knowing he’s got the upper hand.

“If you decide you’ve had enough of the Arcangelos you can always come work for me. I’d love to have a little whore like you around the house.”

“F--”

The word doesn’t have time to form in your mouth as Nicolas’ hand clamps over Vaughn’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make the man whimper.

“Harder,” Wallace orders darkly from behind him, and he obeys with relish, squeezing so hard you swear you hear bone crunch.

You hurry to your feet and stand behind them, clutching the back of Wallace’s jacket tightly in one hand. He looks back at you apologetically and you give him a reassuring smile.

“Go ahead,” Vaughn wheezes, face contorted in pain. “Beat the shit out of me. Ruin the party. Everyone expects you to fuck up anyway.”

Nicolas looks over his shoulder, waiting obediently for the order despite the fact it looks like he would love nothing better than to rip him limb from limb.

Wallace frowns in thought until the sound of Michel’s voice fills your ears. You’ve never been so happy to hear it.

“Everything alright?” His tone is light, but his expression is stern. It seems as though he’s aware of everything that’s been going on, despite being halfway across the room. He really is the consummate host.

“Tell Wallace to call off his dog and it will be,” Vaughn hisses through his teeth.

Michel tilts his head to the side, blue eyes narrowed.

“Vaughn, you’ve got 5 minutes to get off the property before I send Nicolas after you. With or without his katana, your choice.”

Nicolas grins widely with a growl, exposing two rows of sharp teeth. Vaughn practically catapults to his feet, stalking out of the room without another word.

“Michel--” Wallace begins, blinking a little as Michel slides a hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a set of car keys and pressing them into his hand.

“Go and enjoy the night. You’ve earned it.”

You smile thankfully at Michel and he returns it with a warm smile of his own.

“I still don’t have a license,” Wallace reminds him.

Michel grins, and for the first time you see the resemblance between them.

“You only need a license if you get caught.”

xxx

“Where should we go?” Wallace is taking great care to drive exactly at the speed limit, eye fixed on the road.

 _‘Everything’s closed by now.’_ Nicolas signs, gazing out the window at the passing buildings, most of the windows gone dark at this time of night.

You press your hands absently against your waist, feeling the delicate boning of the corset through the soft material of your dress. Swallowing thickly, you lean forward between the front seats.

“We could get a room.”

You grab onto the seats for balance as the car almost veers off the road.


	7. love galore

It takes about 20 minutes to find a hotel, but the wait at the front desk feels like an eternity. The woman checking you in hasn’t stopped looking between the three of you after Wallace requested ‘the best room they had with one bed’ without an ounce of shame.

“Enjoy your stay.” She smiles, raising her eyebrows with a smile at you as Wallace grabs your hand, Nicolas right behind you as he leads the way to the elevator. The doors slide open as soon as Wallace presses the button, and the two of them waste no time in pulling you inside, trapping your body between them.

Wallace captures your mouth with his and you make a noise against his lips, kissing him back with all the pent up emotion you’d buried in your chest since the first time you’d met. You feel Nicolas behind you, pressing his lips against your neck with a low growl as you reach back, sliding a hand encouragingly into his dark hair.

It’s hard to even think when Wallace slides his tongue against yours at the same time as Nicolas’ hands close around your tits, squeezing hard and making you arch into his touch. You make a soft noise into Wallace’s mouth, already overwhelmed when things have only just begun.

“NoT mOvInG,” Nicolas rasps against your skin. Honestly, you hadn’t even noticed.

“Fuck,” Wallace swears against your mouth, pulling away reluctantly before leaning over and slapping his hand against the button for the 31st floor. The elevator finally begins sliding upward and you laugh breathlessly as he cups your face in his hands, wasting no time in kissing you again.

Nicolas lets out a low growl as you press back against him, grinding your ass slowly against his crotch. His hands haven’t stopped groping at your chest, and you feel his fingers begin to slip beneath the front of your dress until the elevator dings cheerfully, doors sliding open to reveal an older couple dressed in swimsuits, obviously on their way to the indoor pool downstairs.

The older man clears his throat and the three of you pull apart quickly, in various states of disarray and embarrassment. Nicolas folds his arms over his chest, staring at the wall with his eyebrows knitted slightly together in frustration. You give the couple a sheepish smile as they step inside, hitting the button for the pool and guaranteeing awkward silence for the next 15 floors.

Wallace takes the opportunity of the enclosed space to sidle closer to your side, large hand reaching behind you slowly and giving your backside a hard squeeze. You jump a little and swat at his hand, well aware the older couple are watching you in the mirrored surface of the wall with raised eyebrows. He chuckles and opts to pull you against his side instead, rubbing your bare arm with his thumb.

Finally, the elevator dings again at you reach your destination.

“Enjoy your swim.” Wallace grins at the couple as the three of you step off the elevator, getting one last look of disapproval before the doors slide shut.

“Mr. Brown, if you will.” He nods to Nicolas, and suddenly the shorter man has you thrown over his shoulder, one hand resting firmly on your backside.

“Hey!” You squeal, bouncing slightly as Nicolas follows Wallace down the hallway to your room. Nicolas gives your ass a reassuring pat as Wallace slides the keycard into the door, leading the way inside.

There’s no time to look around. The lights flicker on as Nicolas carries you to the bed, tossing you into it gently with a grin before practically pouncing on you. He kisses you hard, pressing his lips against yours with such force it almost hurts. You whimper against his mouth, brushing your tongue against the seam of his lips as you feel the mattress dip next to you, Wallace resuming his place at your side.

He kisses hungrily down the side of your neck, sucking a bruise slowly into the skin as his fingers work to unzip the back of your dress. You reach out slowly with both hands, finding their half-hard cocks easily and stroking them slowly through their pants, smiling against Nicolas’ mouth as they make a noise in tandem.

Wallace gets the zipper of your dress down enough to pull it down over your shoulders, signing something to Nicolas before he breaks the kiss and helps remove the offending garment. The corset comes into view and Wallace murmurs his approval as Nicolas reaches out, running his fingers over the soft lace.

You push the rest of the dress down over your hips, revealing the scrap of lace the store claimed was underwear. Nicolas swallows so hard you can hear it.

“Mm, you wear this just for us?” Wallace purrs, turning your face towards his and kissing you languidly.

“I did…” You breathe against his lips with a smile, working to undo the buttons of his shirt with unsteady hands.

“Looks so fucking pretty on her, doesn’t it, Nic?” Wallace smirks at his friend who nods in response, dark eyes dragging over your body hungrily before pushing you onto your back with a grin.

_‘We should show her how much we like it.’_ Nicolas signs, looking every inch the predator that he is as he slides one massive hand into your panties, fingers stroking your pussy slowly. You’re already embarrassingly wet, the sensation making Nicolas groan aloud.

“God, I can hear how fucking wet you are,” Wallace groans appreciatively as he leans over, mouth dragging over your collarbone and down your front as the slick sounds of Nicolas’ fingers moving fills your ears. You slide your hands into his pale hair with a whimper, your cheeks flushing red as he pulls down the straps of the corset and eases it down enough to expose your chest to the cool air of the hotel room.

Nicolas stares at your tits with a low noise that seems to come from the back of his throat, one of his fingers stroking against your opening slowly before sliding inside. You rock your hips slightly into his touch with a soft gasp as Wallace drags his tongue over your nipple, teasing it to hardness.

You tighten your grip on his hair, whimpering as he begins sucking on the hardened nub of flesh, his other hand coming up to pinch the other gently between his fingers, coaxing it to hardness. Nicolas bites down on his lower lip as he eases his finger in and out of you, watching your face and body react to all the things they’re doing to it.

“Let me see,” Wallace says to Nicolas, lifting his head and replacing his mouth with his fingers as he watches his partner pull your panties to the side, letting out a low noise of want as you’re fully exposed to both men.

“TiGhT,” Nicolas rasps, corners of his mouth pulling back into a smile that intimidates and arouses you all at once.

Wallace shifts, rubbing himself absently through his pants as he watches Nicolas finger you. He rolls his thumbs over your nipples, stroking and rubbing until you’re nothing but a writhing mess between the two men.

“Wanna watch you come,” Wallace breathes, like he’s been thinking about it for weeks, and slides a hand down to rub your swollen clit as Nicolas adds another finger. Your hands twist in the sheets as you’re brought rapidly to the edge, both of their eyes fixed on you as you come with a ragged moan, hips jerking off the bed.

Nicolas pins your hips to the bed with one calloused hand, gritting his teeth as he feels you tighten around his fingers. Wallace bites down on his full lower lip as he works you off through your orgasm, blue eye gone darker than you’ve ever seen it.

You pant heavily, trying to will the feeling back into your legs as they begin to undress, and your hands practically itch at the sight of their well muscled bodies coming into view. It only makes sense to join in, sitting up and unhooking your corset before tossing it and your panties onto the floor with the growing pile of menswear.

Wallace retrieves a condom from his wallet, tossing it over his shoulder before tearing the package open with his teeth and rolling it down onto his cock. Nicolas makes a noise and he and Wallace have a conversation with their hands that goes too fast for you to catch.

“Get on your hands and knees for me, beautiful.” Wallace catches your lips in a quick kiss as Nicolas climbs around and settles on the bed in front of you, and you quickly understand what’s about to happen. You turn over onto your hands and knees on the edge of the bed as Wallace stands behind you, giving your ass a hard squeeze before rubbing his cock against your opening.

You whimper a little and close your fingers around Nicolas’ cock, stroking it slowly in time with Wallace’s movements. He grits his teeth with a muffled growl, reaching up and sliding his hands into your hair, moving it away from your face as he watches you drag your tongue up the length of his cock.

Wallace slides his cock inside you with a low groan, pressing his blunt nails into your skin as he eases himself in and out slowly, savouring the feeling. You let out a soft moan before you take Nicolas’ cock into your mouth, easing the entire way down his length as you feel his grip tighten in your hair, making a noise so loud it’s obvious he can’t hear it.

“Fuck, you feel amazing…” Wallace pants, his hips falling into a steady rhythm as he thrusts into you, bumping you forward a little as your mouth bobs up and down on Nicolas’ cock in time with his movements. The deaf man’s grip on your hair is so tight it’s bordering on painful, but you don’t even care. All you want is to keep him making those noises over and over again.

You pull your mouth off Nicolas’ cock with a moan as Wallace’s fingers dip between your legs, rubbing your clit hard as he fucks you.

“Nn, Wallace…” You whimper, listening to him moan as he responds with a sharp snap of his hips, burying himself completely inside of you. Nicolas lets out a low groan as you lap at the head of his cock while looking up at him, sucking on it languidly before easing your mouth back down his length.

“Come for me, baby, come on…” Wallace pants, the rhythm of his hips beginning to stutter as his fingers rub your clit rapidly, bringing you to the edge of your second orgasm before something inside of you snaps. Your hips jerk back against his, and the tightening of your pussy around him is all that he needs to bring him to the edge. He lets out a ragged groan as he buries himself inside you one last time, squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise.

You moan around Nicolas’ cock and he stiffens from the vibration, groaning thickly as he thrusts up into your mouth. He comes so suddenly it surprises you, feeling the warm liquid spatter against your tongue without warning. You squeeze your eyes shut and swallow it down, lifting your head and panting softly with a dazed smile.

Wallace eases out of you, tugging off the condom before tossing into the nearby wastebasket. He scoops you into his arms with a grin and carries you up to the head of the bed, pulling back the sheets and settling you both comfortably underneath. Nicolas nuzzles against your temple with a hum before going to search for the room service menu, unbothered by his own nudity.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Wallace admits quietly, leaning back against the pillows and pulling you against his chest. You rest your cheek against his shoulder, fingers stroking the soft hair covering his chest the way you’ve been dying to since first laying eyes on him.

“Me too,” You murmur a bit shyly, wondering what this is going to change. Everything? Nothing? Your eyes slide shut for a moment as he plays absently with your hair, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your hand.

“Have you and Nicolas…”

“Done this before?” Wallace asks, amused.

_‘We never agreed on a woman before you.’_ Nicolas signs, flipping through the room service booklet. _‘Wallace had shitty taste in women up until now_.’

Wallace gives him the finger.

“This is a first for us. But if you’re alright with it, we’re alright with it.”

“I’m alright with it.” You smile, honestly surprised by how natural this all feels.

_‘Good.’_ Nicolas signs, eyes warm and focused on you. He looks down at the menu. _‘Can we eat now?’_


End file.
